


the heist

by bananajie (carpesoo)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, McDonald's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpesoo/pseuds/bananajie
Summary: zhengting is about to pull off the biggest con in recent history.





	the heist

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer:—previously written for a different fandom.

“fuck!” zhengting swears out loud.

he's just gone and fucking dropped his egg mcmuffin. his precious egg mcmuffin. if he were at home and not at his local mcdonald's, he would pick it right back up and carried on as if nothing happened. and if it had been any other day, he might have been tempted to do just that. but as luck would have it, it's been raining and the floor is covered in shallow puddles and muddy footprints. so instead, he just continues to have a staring contest with the greasy breakfast muffin.

he doesn't even know how it wound up on the floor. one second, it had been safely clutched in his hand and the next, it was attached to the ground. where was the dramatic montage flashing before his eyes, carl orff’s ‘[o fortuna](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXFSK0ogeg4)’ playing in the background as it fell to the floor in slow motion? zhengting is quite convinced it had teleported itself.

he squats down, picking up the soiled muffin to inspect the damage. it’s definitely a lost cause. sighing deeply, he reaches for his wallet. he hadn’t intended on spending this much money on junk food but his trips to the fast food chain after a night out were a tradition. besides, it’s the only thing that ensures he doesn’t wake up ~~the next morning~~ in the evening with a head splitting hangover.

that’s odd, his wallet isn’t where it usually is—in his back pocket. he pats down his other pockets which all turn up empty. well, isn’t that just fucking splendid? and for some unknown reason—a mystery that will stump him for years to come, no doubt—zhengting can feel his eyes welling up with tears.

he didn’t even cry when bambi’s mother was ruthlessly shot by the faceless hunter or when jack froze to death in the north atlantic ocean after the titanic had sunk—they both could’ve lived, goddammit! nor did he cry when his high school boyfriend dumped him the day before prom. okay, he may have made some pretty feeble sounds as he whined about it to his best friend, wenjun. but technically, it didn’t count because no actual tears fell from his eyes. so to be on the verge on a full on meltdown just because he’s just dropped his egg mcmuffin is beyond his comprehension.

it could be down to the fact that it’s six thirty in the morning and zhengting’s been awake for close to twenty four hours. he’s far too tired for this. it’ll be the last time he ever goes drinking with zeren—or rather—zeren’s new boyfriend, wenjun. zhengting thought he was pretty good at handling his liquor but he’s no match for wenjun.

the man, even after countless shots, was still sober as a judge which was more than could be said for zeren. wenjun had to literally carry him out of the bar after he’d drunkenly mistaken the female’s bathroom for the men’s room and urinated into one of the sinks. they’ll never be able to show their faces there ever again, that’s for sure. not that zhengting’s too bummed about it, the bar was far too crowded and the drinks extremely overpriced. he really should stop blowing all his hard earned cash on fancy cocktails named after sex positions, it really isn’t good for his liver—or bank account.

zhengting suddenly remembers what happened to his wallet. after wenjun had hailed a cab, zhengting insisted he’d pay for the fare. wenjun—a gentleman worthy for zeren—had refused his offer, and so zhengting had pocketed the loose change, thrown the wallet through the open window, and fled before wenjun could return it to him. zhengting has always been a generous drunk, a trait zeren usually takes full advantage of. when he’s not trying to flash a group of unexpected women in the ladies room, that is.

zhengting, now walletless, had just spent the only cash he had on him. with his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out three pitiful coins, not nearly enough to purchase another egg mcmuffin. whimpering softly, he stuffs the loose change back into his pocket. he blames zeren, it’s all his fault. just then laughter rings in his ears and zhengting swears it belongs to zeren. he would recognise that distinctive cackle anywhere. zhengting scans the restaurant only to find his best friend nowhere in sight. it’s not all that surprising since zeren’s drunken ritual usually involves stumbling home and passing out on the toilet with a toothbrush still in his mouth.

grumbling to himself, zhengting takes another look at the grubby bun. it’s staring back at him, its greasy surface taunting him, soaking through the parchment paper and onto his hand. fuck this, fuck everything. zhengting is about to toss the egg mcmuffin into the rubbish bin when something catches his eye. or to be more specific, _someone_.

a man in a t-shirt despite the cold weather. seriously? zhengting watches as the man rises from his seat, his eyes following the stranger as he heads his way. he’s tall, zhengting observes, even taller than zhengting who stands at 183cm tall. the stranger has kind eyes and a sharp jawline, one that could probably cut through glass.

he’s pretty cute, zhengting muses, he’s always had a weakness for tall cute guys. zhengting discreetly watches the stranger as he makes his order.

“hey, bro. can i get an e-g-g m-c-m-u-f-f-i-n meal, please. cool, bro.”

did he really just _spell_ out his order?

why does zhengting always encounter the strangest people in mcdonald’s? he recalls the time he witnessed a man crying out “murder!” before swatting a bottle of orange juice out of a woman’s hand.

zhengting turns away from the stranger—mr. bro—and it dawns on zhengting that the man has left his tray of food unattended. zhengting finds himself wrapping the dirty egg mcmuffin back up and making his way over to mr. bro’s table. he hovers above the tray of food, and his eyes land on the fresh and clean mcmuffin, untainted by the clumsy fingers that belong to one drunken zhu zhengting.

a thought enters his brain. _trade them._ no, he couldn't possibly do that. it’s basically stealing, right? zhengting inhales deeply, the glorious aroma of fried eggs filling his nostrils. is he really going to do this? a chair scrapes across the floor, startling him and prompting him to take action. there’s no time for hesitation, it’s now or never, do or die. biting his bottom lip, he steels his resolve and makes the switch, judgement be damned.

zhengting flees the scene of the crime, but doesn't stray too far away, taking refuge at a nearby table. carefully unwrapping the muffin, he takes a bite. it tastes so good, even better than he’d remembered. it’s too late to turn back now, he needs to follow this through to the end. zhengting takes another bite, only it isn't as satisfying as the first. something’s different. off. zhengting sets the bun back onto the grease stained paper and it hits him.

there’s no cheese in this egg mcmuffin! which also means mr. bro would definitely realise his food’s been swapped once he takes a bite. zhengting will get caught, go to prison—a place with no egg mcmuffins. how on earth will he survive? damn his reckless actions; and for what? his pilfered egg mcmuffin isn’t even a _proper_ one. no cheese on an egg mcmuffin is a complete travesty. zhengting did right to steal the man’s food, mr. bro didn’t deserve it. maybe it’d even teach him a lesson.

okay, now is not the time to be questioning a mr. bro’s—clearly poor—life choices. zhengting needs to destroy the evidence and he needs to do it fast. no body, no crime. almost choking to death halfway through, zhengting somehow manages to scarf down the entire thing just in time, mr. bro returning to his table as zhengting swallows the last bite.

breathing a sigh of relief, zhengting wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. deeming it time to head back home for some much needed rest, zhengting stands up. only he doesn’t. his muscles won’t budge regardless of how hard he tries; there’s an unknown force preventing him from leaving. remorse? intrigue? masochism? he makes several more attempts, eliciting strange groans as he struggles to rise to his feet but alas, his efforts are all in vain. so instead of making a speedy exit, evading capture, zhengting sees no other alternative than to remain seated until his body decides to obey him. 

zhengting sneaks a glance at mr. bro, just to see if the man has eaten the egg mcmuffin yet. he hasn’t. zhengting looks on as the man makes a weird hand sign with his fingers. catching himself staring for a tad too long, zhengting averts his line of sight. 

two seconds pass and zhengting peeks at him again. still nothing. zhengting continues to spy on the man, trying to remain as discreet as possible. _there’s nothing better to do_ , zhengting tells himself. his denial game has always been strong. just like the time he accidentally farted in the lift and blamed it on the person standing beside him. despite there being just the two of them inside that elevator, he was vehemently adamant that he wasn’t the culprit. he’d like to think he managed to convince the other of his innocence.

mr. bro, who has since ceased with making weird hand gestures, is now preoccupied with his kindle, and is completely oblivious to the fact that he has an audience. eyes glued to the device’s screen, he unwraps zhengting’s contaminated egg mcmuffin and raises it to his mouth. zhengting clenches his fists and holds his breath. he can’t seem to look away; it’s like watching a train wreck unfolding before his eyes. zhengting keeps waiting for mr. bro to take a bite, the man’s pearly whites to sink into the bun, but something unexpected happens. mr. bro sets down the muffin and opts for the crispy golden hash brown instead, slowly chomping on the crunchy potato patty.

zhengting exhales, the air rushing out of his lungs, his breathing rapid and shallow as he catches his breath. goodness gracious, why is he such a nervous wreck? both his actions and emotions are baffling him today. zhengting blames it on the al-al-al-alcohol.

mr. bro repeatedly lowers and lifts his right arm as he chews, the motion simulating a bicep curl exercise, but instead of a dumbbell, the man is lifting… a hash brown. devouring the deep fried snack in just three bites, the egg mcmuffin winds up back in the clutches of mr. bro’s enormous hands in no time.

zhengting can’t help but make the observation that the egg mcmuffin looks like a mini slider in comparison to the size of the man’s hand. his body—the southern half—stirs awake as his mind begins to wander into dangerous territory. is mr. bro long in _every_ department? how’s his stamina? would he be opposed to light bondage and/or role play—

the sounds of heavy footsteps, an employee chasing a homeless man out of the restaurant, draws zhengting’s attention back to mr. bro and what can only be described as a peculiar instance of indecisive behaviour. appearing to change his mind yet again, the man places the egg mcmuffin back onto his tray and curls his fingers around his beverage—some kind of coffee. raising the cup to his lips, he takes several slow sips before gulping the rest of the drink in one shot, and releasing a satisfied “ahh”.

not two seconds later, mr. bro begins to shift uncomfortably in his chair. the man’s fingers slowly reach for the egg mcmuffin before they suddenly veer off course and into the air. stretching—and flexing—he suddenly looks in zhengting’s direction, causing zhengting to jerk his head away to avoid detection. zhengting feels a sharp pain in his neck, he’s probably given himself whiplash. fucking marvelous. zhengting tilts his head from side to side to help get rid of the kink in his neck when his eyes land on mr. bro, their eyes meeting. turning away immediately, zhengting feels a hot blush creeping to his cheeks.

did zhengting detect a hint of a smirk just then? shrugging it off as just his imagination, zhengting retrieves his phone from his pocket. he needs to act inconspicuous, and to do so he requires a prop. pretending to text a friend, zhengting’s delicate fingers dance across the screen, selling his masquerade. proud of his oscar-worthy performance, zhengting takes a bow, imagining the cheers and roaring applause washing over him as he receives a standing ovation. “thank you to all my fans, i couldn’t have done it without you!” he mumbles quietly, raising his phone in place of a trophy.

“mum, why is that man talking to himself?”

“sssh, stop looking and keep walking!”

zhengting hears the woman hushing her child, and he immediately hangs his head in shame. what the hell is he doing? he’s supposed to keep himself hidden, a faceless individual amongst the crowd, not attracting unwanted attention. fortunately for zhengting, mr. bro is far too engrossed with his reading material to have witnessed the embarrassing incident.

after several minutes pass, phone safely back in the confines of his pocket, zhengting resumes his surveillance. from the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of his egg mcmuffin inching closer and closer to mr. bro’s lips. unable to sit idly by, zhengting jumps up from his seat. he charges ahead at full throttle and hurtles towards mr. bro. “nooooooooo, don’t do it,” he screams, slapping the egg mcmuffin out of the unsuspecting man’s hand.

bewildered, mr. bro’s eyes widen. “w-what’s happening, bro?” his gaze falls to the bun on the floor. “my egg mcmuffin! what did you do that for, bro?!”

mr. bro sounds irked but despite the furrowed brows and flared nostrils, zhengting doesn’t find the man intimidating in the slightest. unable to hold it in, zhengting cracks up in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“bro, you think this is _funny_?!” the man asks in disbelief. “what the hell is your problem, bro?”

zhengting clutches his stomach and takes several deep breaths. collecting his composure, he apologises, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh. it’s just that you…” _look like an angry bird when you’re angry_. no, wait. better not take another swing at the hornet’s nest. “see, the thing is, erm, how do i explain this?”

“try, bro,” mr. bro says curtly, his deep voice booming and sending shivers down zhengting’s spine.

zhengting dry swallows. okay, mr. bro has successfully managed to instill some fear into him. “i dropped my egg mcmuffin. so then, i may have accidentally, er, switched our egg mcmuffins. it was an honest mistake, i swear,” he explains, knowing all too well how ridiculous it sounds. he just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, just as he had done with mr. bro’s egg mcmuffin. nothing is worth this much hassle, not even two egg mcmuffins.

“accidentally? _accidentally_?! an honest _mistake_?” mr. bro scoffs incredulously. “look, bro. i don’t know what game you’re trying to pull here, but it isn’t funny.”

“i’m not playing any games. eurgh, i shouldn’t have moved that fast. now my head hurts.” he closes his eyes and massages his temples with his index and middle fingers. 

mr. bro leans in, his face several inches away from zhengting’s. despite the squinting and twitching, zhengting can see there’s a kindness in the man’s eyes. his gaze drops to zhengting’s lips, an expression follows that zhengting can’t quite decipher. instinctively, zhengting covers his mouth with his right hand.

“it all makes sense now. you’re wasted, bro,” mr. bro says, pulling away from zhengting.

it doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. he could probably smell the alcohol lingering on zhengting’s breath. what is he, a bloodhound? “was,” zhengting points out. he sees mr. bro raise an eyebrow. “fine. still am, just a little.”

“i get it, bro, i do. i’ve done some silly things when i’ve been drunk, though turning to a life of crime isn’t one of them.” mr. bro tsks playfully.

“exaggerate much?”

mr. bro chuckles, causing zhengting to wince in pain, his pounding headache exacerbated by the deep timbre of the man’s laugh. zhengting swears he can literally feel his brain throbbing inside of his skull.

“so, how’s this? get me a new egg mcmuffin and we’ll go our separate ways. no harm, no foul,” the man suggests, his tone much quieter and softer than before.

mr. bro’s concern for a complete stranger, even one who had stolen his egg mcmuffin, makes it harder for zhengting to disclose his current financial status. he chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “yeah, about that. i don’t…”

“you don’t?”

“...have any money on me.”

shit. mr. bro does not appear pleased to learn of the revelation. zhengting feels compelled to set the record straight, to explain what had happened. 

“you see, my friend got super wasted, like absolutely bombed. if you think i’m drunk, you should’ve seen the state he was in. we basically got kicked out of this hipster bar, you know, the one that serves drinks in old jam jars? anyway, so he tried to pee in the women’s bathroom only apparently all the stalls were occupied and he was about to piss himself so he decided the sink was better than pissing himself—”

mr. bro clears his throat loudly, an action zhengting interprets as an indication to move his story along. “right. so long story short, my wallet is at my friend’s house,” zhengting continues, “if you just wait here, i’ll go get it and come back and then i’ll—”

mr. bro holds a palm out, cutting zhengting off. “just stop right there, bro. do i look like an idiot to you?”

“yes,” zhengting blurts out without thinking. shit, did he just say that _out loud_? “i mean, no?”

the man frowns, clearly unamused by zhengting’s candid words.

“well, i thought it was pretty obvious i didn’t have any money on me. if i did, i wouldn’t have stolen your egg mcmuffin. i would’ve just bought myself a new one, you know?” on the verge of continuing his ramblings, zhengting decides to stop there, not wanting to add any additional salt to the wound.

mr. bro looks like he’s just been kicked in the gut several times. “it isn’t _that_ obvious, bro. you could’ve been too cheap or lazy or i don’t know, too drunk to function,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

zhengting can tell that his comment had cut deeper than he’d intended. he needs to say something to lighten the mood.“ah, right. no, i’m not a lazy drunk, but a horny one.” he shoots mr. bro a wink and whips out his finger pistols, and smirks when the man chokes on his saliva.

“so, yeeeeeah. i won’t be able to get you a new egg mcmuffin, but ooh! give me your phone,” zhengting instructs, holding out an open palm.

“what? first you steal my food, now you want me to steal my phone? and you expect me to just hand it over to you, bro?”

“i’m not going to steal your—” zhengting spots mr. bro’s phone sitting on the table. he reaches over and grabs the device, swatting mr. bro’s attempts to snatch it out of his grasp. he enters his digits and hands the phone back to its owner. “there, i gave you my number. trust me, that’s worth more than some shitty egg mcmuffin. who orders an egg mcmuffin without any cheese, anyway? what’s wrong with you?”

mr. bro splutters unattractively. “w-what’s wrong with _me_?! i should be asking _you_ that! if it was so shitty, why did you eat it, bro?”

“well, i didn’t know it didn’t have any cheese until i took a bite! and by then, it was too late.” zhengting smacks his lips with a look of distaste, recalling what disappointment the egg mcmuffin had been.

mr. bro pockets his phone before slumping back into his chair. “serves you right, then.” picking up his kindle, he turns the device on and resumes reading the book he was absorbed in before zhengting had disturbed him. his eyes begin to blink rapidly as he scans the lines of text.

“are you about to _cry_? aww, poor baby,” zhengting coos, biting back a smile. he doesn’t mean to tease the man but zhengting can’t seem to help himself. 

mr. bro doesn’t respond. oh, wow. the silent treatment. real mature.

“alright, no need to sulk. i’m sorry for stealing your food. and if it makes you feel any better, i feel like shit. everything hurts,” zhengting says with a prolonged groan.

mr. bro gazes up at him, but doesn’t breathe a word, nor does he look away. a minute passes as they continue to stare at each other, the awkward silence mounting.

“i hope you feel better soon, bro” the man finally speaks before returning his eyes to the device in his hand.

taking that as a cue to leave, zhengting bids the man a farewell. “thanks, i hope you have a pleasant day.” he turns on his heel, freezing when he realises that he doesn’t have his bus pass on him—it’s inside of his wallet.

the realisation leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach, or it could’ve been the egg mcmuffin. he really doesn’t want to make the commute home by foot, all he wants to do right now is climb into his bed and sleep for an entire week. knowing it’s a long shot, zhengting clears his throat and looks directly into mr. bro’s eyes.

“actually, erm, i don't suppose you could lend me money for the bus fare? it’s like a forty minute walk home and even longer to get to my friend’s house. i’ll pay you back, i swear, just text me your bank details.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me, bro.” the man rolls his eyes and sets his kindle down.

okay, so zhengting kinda saw that coming. it’s time for him to turn on the charm. zhengting takes a deep breath and musters the widest smile his face would allow. “how about i trade you it for my email address?”

“why would i need your email address when i’ve got your number?”

“looks like i was wrong, perhaps you’re not the idiot i pegged you as.” zhengting playfully slaps the man’s arm, letting his hand linger for a few seconds. “just kidding. it’s fine, i’ll just walk. but again, sorry about stealing your food and almost letting you eat a floor muffin.” he shoots mr. bro a smile before turning away to leave.

zhengting’s not sure if he’ll ever see or hear from the man again, but he’ll be sure to live on in zhengting’s memory—as the man who destroyed the holiness that is an egg mcmuffin. just the mere thought of no cheese has zhengting all riled up again; a part of him now regretting slapping the muffin out of mr. bro’s hand. dirty or not, it’d still be better than a no cheese egg mcmuffin. zhengting decides that perhaps it’s best if they never cross paths again— they’re far too different to be compatible. still, he’d miss the nice forearms.

before taking a step forward, zhengting sneaks one final peek at the man and his arms. he gasps when he sees an arm reaching out for him and a giant hand landing on his shoulder.

“wait a second. here,” the man says, handing zhengting a bill, more than enough for a bus fare.

“you’re a real lifesaver, thanks— wait, i don’t even know your name. after everything, i feel like i should know it. i’ve been calling you ‘mr. bro’ in my head all this time. i don’t know if you know this or not, but you say ‘bro’ a lot.” zhengting cocks his head, waiting for the man to formally introduce himself.

mr. bro looks strangely proud to learn of the nickname zhengting had given him, and his hands make that weird sign again. “ziyi. wang ziyi.”

“hmm. ziyi. ziiii-yii, zi-yiiiiiii” zhengting repeats the name several times. “i think i might stick to ‘mr. bro’ after all.”

 

 

 

“will you be paying by cash or card?”

zhengting points at ziyi. “he’s paying.”

“e-excuse me?”

“i’m going to find somewhere for us to sit,” zhengting announces, ignoring the other’s spluttering. he grins when ziyi sighs and reaches into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. zhengting gives the man's arm a quick squeeze before leaving him to pay for their food.

spotting an empty table in the corner of the restaurant, zhengting scurries over and opts for the plush booth side. he's sure ziyi would've offered him the comfier seat anyway. tapping his fingers on the table, zhengting waits for his boyfriend to join him.

_boyfriend._

zhengting never would've imagined that he would end up dating mr. bro, but things have a funny way of turning out. mama wang having raised nothing short of a perfect gentleman, ziyi had text zhengting to check in on him, to which zhengting replied with a sincere thank you. not expecting another response from the man, he was pleasantly surprised when his phone had vibrated with another message. and thus began an exchange of texts that continued into the early hours of the morning, a close connection between the two established in no time.

zhengting found himself almost bursting with anticipation as he awaited a response, his heart pounding against his chest when ziyi's name finally appeared on his phone. not one to secretly pine over someone, zhengting had been the one to take initiative and plucked up the courage to ask ziyi out on a date. zhengting had never smiled so hard after reading the words, “ _damn, you beat me to it_.”

a month later and things are progressing well. zhengting isn't the type to kiss and tell but he has let slip to zeren that ziyi’s anatomy is completely in proportion, no disappointments there. ziyi isn't without his faults though; zhengting was horrified to learn that ziyi is a _morning_ person.

“i can’t believe you made me wake up at this god awful hour,” zhengting whines when his boyfriend takes a seat opposite him, setting down the tray of food on the table.

“it’s really not that early, zhengting. it’s ten am, most people are awake by this time. besides, you're really in no position to be complaining when you were the one who was supposed to pay for all of this. your treat, remember?” ziyi shakes his head and begins dividing the food and drink, moving zhengting's share to his side of the table.

picking up his bottle of ‘murderous’ orange juice, zhengting unscrews the cap and takes a sip. “you know the rules. if you expect me to meet you before noon, you need to provide the food.”

“geez, zhengting. think of all the things you could achieve if you woke up earlier. you're missing out on so many good things, like mcd's breakfast.”

“you’ve got a point, i guess. mcd’s breakfast is worth getting out of bed for.” zhengting takes another swig of his drink before offering the rest to ziyi.

accepting the orange juice, ziyi finishes the remaining half of the bottle in one shot. “yeah, and it only took us two months to arrange this breakfast date.”

“can you believe it’s been two months already?” zhengting asks, smiling at the fond—albeit hazy—memory of how they’d first met.

“that reminds me, i actually had an interesting conversation with zeren and wenjun the other day. they told me all about the story of how we met,” ziyi informs zhengting with an expression on his face that zhengting has never seen before.

he's not sure if he should be afraid or not. judging from the last few times the four of them have spent time together, his friends are not to be trusted, especially that zeren. zhengting tries to recall what he’d told them. he may or may not have spent a good forty five minutes describing how hot ziyi was. zhengting would never hear the end of it if ziyi were to find out that out. zhengting would have to go on a murderous rampage if one of them breathed a word about it to his boyfriend. he has an inkling that zeren has already spilled the beans, disclosing anything that would embarrass him. most likely claiming that it was his duty as zhengting's best friend, or some other nonsense like that. ding zeren, the master bullshitter.

if zeren really had divulged information meant to be kept strictly confidential, zhengting would have no choice but to retaliate with the story of when they went to camp their last year of high school. the incident in question had involved a can of shaving cream, a pack of condoms, two rolls of toilet paper, a tootsie roll, and a visit to the emergency room. sworn to secrecy all these years, zhengting has never been tempted to break his pinky promise. yet.

“what lies has zeren been spreading now?” zhengting asks as he retrieves his phone from his pocket, his fingers poised and ready to send an exclusive tell-all text to wenjun.

“well, let’s just say your recollection of what went down differs from how i remember it,” ziyi tells him.

“say what now?” zhengting's ears perk up and he sits up straight. “what do you mean by ‘differs’?”

“you told the guys that the first time we spoke was after you slapped the floor muffin out of my hand. but we actually exchanged words before then. when i was waiting in line, you screamed bloody murder. when i was making my order, you started to spell it out like we were at a spelling bee event. so i asked if you were okay and you rambled on about bambi, jack from titanic, and some guy named yanchen?”

“nooooooooo,” zhengting gasps in surprise, his mouth hanging wide open. did he really say all that stuff _out loud_?

ziyi laughs at zhengting’s reaction and takes one of his hands into his own, lacing their fingers together. “then after i got my food, when i went to get a napkin, you barged passed me and sat in my seat. i was literally standing less than two feet away from you when you made the switch. and you didn’t even get out of my chair before you started wolfing down my egg mcmuffin.”

“oh, my god.” zhengting feels mortified after discovering the truth. wanting to cover his face with his hands, zhengting tries to pull his hand free but ziyi’s grip is too tight.

“and when you finally noticed i was standing in front of you,” ziyi continues, “you yelped and slid into the adjacent seat and basically gawked at me the entire time.”

“you caught me spying on you? but how? you were too busy with your kindle!”

“i was just trying my best to avoid making eye contact with you, to be honest. strange drunk man and all that, but you were making it hard when you kept jabbing me with your elbow and cackling. when i picked up the floor muffin to set it aside, you shouted in my ear, ‘ _oh no, he’s going to eat it! he’s actually going to eat it!_ ’, practically made me deaf in one ear.”

“oops? sorry about that,” zhengting apologises, reaching out to gently stroke his boyfriend’s protruding ears. 

“just before you left, you mumbled something that i couldn't quite make out but you seemed pretty happy when i gave you some napkins. i think you tried to wink at me, but you were just blinking real fast. oh, and you also fell over some chairs. you don’t remember any of this? man, how drunk were you?”

“i wasn’t _that_ drunk, i swear! i remember taking out my phone and pretending to text zeren so it looked like i was doing something other than spying on you. ”

“actually, you took off your shoe.”

zhengting slams his head on the table. “no, no, no,” he repeats over and over. this has gotten beyond embarrassing. he feels ziyi’s long fingers running through his hair. zhengting looks up at his boyfriend with puppy dog eyes, his lips pouting. “why on earth would you ever agree to go out with me after everything that happened then?”

“what can i say? i thought you were pretty cute, once i looked past all the drunk. and also, no one’s made a song about me before.”

“.. a song?” zhengting asks, a sense of dread coursing through his body. he’s not a bad singer, by any means, but he knows a spur of the moment singsong whilst under the influence of alcohol couldn't have been pretty.

“ _bro, are you okay?_  
so, bro, are you okay?  
are you okay, bro?  
you've been hit by,  
you've been hit by,  
a smooth criminal.”

zhengting dry sobs. “stop, stop, stop! i can’t take it anymore. i don’t wanna know what else happened. i’m just glad i got home in one piece.”

“i’m glad, too. i had no idea how you were going to get yourself home in that state but i was relieved when you responded to my text.”

“how did you even get my number?”

“that was no walk in the park, let me tell you. when i asked you for it, all you did was scream ‘ _cheese_ ’ at me. but i guess that made a change from you screaming out the word ‘bro’ at me whenever we made eye contact. then i thought i could get your number by ringing myself from your phone but when i asked you where your phone was, you kept pointing to your crotch. luckily i found it on the floor, under your chair. otherwise you would’ve had no money _and_ no phone.”

“wait a second. didn’t you give me money for the bus?”

ziyi shakes his head. “nope, all i gave you were the napkins.”

“oh, good lord. did i try to pay for the bus with _napkins_?” zhengting covers his face with his hands. how could his memory of what happened that morning be completely inaccurate?  
“i really wish i could’ve seen that though, it would’ve been a hoot,” ziyi teases, ducking when zhengting threatens to throw the empty bottle of orange juice at him.

noticing a female employee standing behind his boyfriend with a frown on her face, zhengting eyes her curiously and is taken aback when she tuts at him before turning on her heel. “did i… do something to that lady?” zhengting asks, pointing to the woman in question.

“oh, i almost forgot. you almost got thrown out? you kept pounding your fist on the table and she was the one who asked you to stop making so much noise. then you started yelling something about not being some homeless man.”

“i don’t think i can show my face around here again,” zhengting says as he rises to his feet.

“don’t be silly. sit back down, zhengting. if there’s one place you should stay away from though, it would be that bar you went to. turns out it wasn’t zeren who tried to pee in the sink of the ladies room, it was—”

“—me,” zhengting interjects, the foggy memory slowly returning to him. 

“now that everything’s been cleared up, we should eat,” ziyi suggests, placing a muffin into zhengting’s hand. “this one’s yours, it’s _special_.”

_special_? zhengting unwraps the egg mcmuffin but doesn’t find anything different about it. it’s just your bog standard run of the mill breakfast sandwich: cheese and egg slapped in between a buttered english muffin. zhengting takes a closer look. wait a second, there’s _two_ slices of cheese in his egg mcmuffin! 

“there was one thing that you made pretty clear that morning. you like your egg mcmuffins with cheese.” there’s a wide grin plastered on ziyi’s face. “so i asked them to put my slice of cheese into yours instead.”

“you might just be a keeper, wang ziyi.” zhengting is about to take his first bite when a voice interrupts him.

“you! aren’t you the one who wandered into the drive-thru and threw up all over one of the windows? i thought i told you last time that you’re no longer welcome here!” a red-faced man—most likely one of the floor managers of the restaurant—shouts angrily. he points an accusing finger at zhengting and begins to march over to their table.

ziyi, after quickly stuffing the two egg mcmuffins into his pocket, grabs one of zhengting’s hands. “run, zhengting, run!” he yells as he bolts toward the exit, dragging zhengting along with him.

they jog for several blocks, slowing down once they’re certain no one is following them. catching their breath, they make eye contact and burst into laughter simultaneously. ziyi pulls zhengting into a tight embrace, giving him a brief squeeze before releasing him.

zhengting stands on his tiptoes and gives ziyi a quick peck on the lips. “that was kinda insane,” he comments, still panting for air.

“i think it’s safe to say we won’t be allowed back there anytime soon so you should probably savour this,” ziyi says, pulling out the muffins from his pocket. “though i’m not quite sure how you’re going to survive without your precious egg mcmuffins.”

“there are more important things to life than egg mcmuffins, ziyi,” zhengting tells him with a smug grin. he never thought he’d ever utter those words; they feel almost _blasphemous_. if zeren had been around, he probably would’ve tackled him to the ground screaming, “who are you and what have you done with the real zhu zhengting?”

who needs egg mcmuffins when you’ve got yourself a wang ziyi?

~~okay, zhengting needs to stop eating so much cheese.~~

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wenjunkie) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/bananajie).
> 
> thanks for reading,  
> banana ♡
> 
> p.s. please leave me a comment—they feed my soul.


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